Her Next Victim and Other Stories Read online

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  Renaissance

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  Copyright ©2004 Victoria Manley

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  HER NEXT VICTIM

  By

  VICTORIA MANLEY

  A Renaissance E Books publication

  ISBN 1-58873-372-4

  All rights reserved

  Copyright © 2004 by Victoria Manley

  This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

  For information contact:

  [email protected]

  A Sizzler Romantica Edition

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  CONTENTS

  CONTENTS

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  HER NEXT VICTIM

  I knew it the moment I looked at her. Her long, lean body ... the pout of her full lips ... the curve of her ass as she smoothed her skirt to sit in the chair at the small cafe table. I approached her, pad and pen in hand to take her drink order, and when she looked up at me through those smoky eyes and dark lashes, I knew what was coming. It was imminent. There was no way around it. There was no avoiding it. I was about to become her next victim.

  "May I take your drink order, ma'am?” I asked politely as I tried to keep my hands from shaking.

  "White wine, please."

  I could see her nipples pointing delicately through her silk blouse as if she was excited to be here.

  "Will you be dining alone or is someone joining you?” I questioned, trying not to sound too personal.

  She shifted uncomfortably in her seat and lowered her voice.

  "Someone is joining me. He should be here at any time. I'll wait to order the meal when he gets here."

  "Very well, I'll get your wine."

  I turned to go and I swore that I could feel her watching me walk away. I glanced over my shoulder and saw her looking out the window. Oh well, so much for my waiter's intuition.

  I set the glass in front of her and she thanked me.

  "Have you heard from your gentleman friend?” I asked and hoping with all my might that it wasn't a husband or boyfriend, “Will he be much longer?"

  "No,” she replied, “should be any time now."

  I glanced at her left hand. There was no wedding or engagement ring.

  "Very well. I'll check back with you in a bit."

  She nodded and I went about busing the table next to her. Anything to stay close. I could smell her perfume as I moved passed her and her scent was intoxicating.

  A ringing came from her purse and she reached into it to retrieve her cell phone.

  "Hello?"

  There was a pause.

  "Yes, I'm at the cafe."

  Pause.

  "But Robert..."

  Her voice trailed and she listened for a moment.

  "But Robert, we were supposed to get away this weekend, just the two of us. You promised."

  Pause. She put her hand over her eyes as if she was getting some bad news.

  "How could you do this to me?” she whispered, “You said you loved me. You said you didn't love your wife anymore. How could you go back to her after all the things we meant to one another?"

  Pause. She wiped a tear from her eye.

  "You're a selfish bastard,” she snarled, “I gave up my job and came here to be with you because you said you were leaving her. Now you tell me that you're going to try to make it work out? What am I supposed to do now?"

  There was a long pause and she began to cry. I wanted to comfort her, but dared not look as if I had been listening.

  "You son of a bitch,” she continued, “don't you ever call me again."

  And with that, she hung up the phone and laid it on the table, then put her face in her hands and sobbed quietly.

  I couldn't help myself. I felt like the knight on the white stead coming to save the poor, defenseless damsel in distress. I rushed to her side, knelt beside the chair, and took her hand in mine.

  "Please don't cry,” I whispered, doing my best to soothe her, “he's not worth crying over."

  She moved her hand from her face and looked down at me.

  "W ... what?” she asked.

  "The guy on the phone,” I said, “he's not worth crying over. He's stupid to let you go. You're better off without him."

  She wiped a tear with the back of her left hand, leaving her right hand still clenched in mine.

  "But I came here to be with him,” she countered, “he's married, but he and his wife were separated. He was going to get a divorce and marry me. Now he ... he...” Her voice trailed.

  "I know,” I told her, “I couldn't help but overhear. And I think you are better off without him."

  She didn't seem offended by the fact that I had listened to her private conversation. As a matter of fact, she suddenly sat up straighter and took a deep breath.

  "You're right,” she said gallantly, “I am better off without him."

  She looked down at me as if she was seeing me for the first time.

  "What's your name?” she asked.

  "Steven."

  "My name is Claudia. When do you get off?"

  "Eight o'clock."

  She shook her head.

  "That's too long. Go tell them that something came up and you have to leave right now and then meet me at the front door."

  With that, she stood up and walked away.

  I could hear an urgency in her voice and I knew that I needed to do what she said. I took off my apron, walked into the kitchen, and told the boss that I had to leave. He didn't like it, but the restaurant was quiet that night and being minus one waiter wasn't going to hurt them that bad. I joined her at the door and she grabbed me by the front of my shirt, holding my face very close to hers.

  "You're coming home with me,” she hissed, “and I won't take no for an answer."

  I wasn't about to say no. Not with the look she had in her eye.

  She began to walk, so I began to follow. I didn't know where we were going, but I felt like a dog being led by his leash. I just followed. With her hand grasping my wrist, she was half leading, half dragging me down the sidewalk, and as we came to her apartment building, she took the corner like Richard Petty speeding down the Daytona 500 Speedway.

  Although being with her was exciting, the fear of the unknown was a bit unsettling. Here she was, beautiful and beguiling, but also angry with men as a species. My fate lay in the hands of her common sense kicking in. If not, you would hear about me on the 6:00 news.

  She let go of my wrist long enough to fish her keys out of her handbag, and as soon as the door was open, she pulled me inside. An orange colored Tabby came out from behind the sofa to greet his mistress, but when it saw me, it hissed and ran the other direction.

  "Don't mind Clarence,” she told me, “he's a bit of a ‘fraidy cat around strangers."

  I was beginning to think that Clarence was the smartest one here. Claudia turned to me and looked me dead in the eye.

  "I'm tired of being treated like a door mat by men,” she declared. “From now on, I'm going to be the one in charge."

  I swallowed a lump the size of Utah and gave her my undivided attention. I suddenly felt like a deer in the headlights; caught with nowhere to run.

  "Do you know what you're going to do for me?” she
asked.

  It was more a statement than a question, so I shook my head, waiting for the answer.

  "You're going to be my boy slave tonight,” she stated. “You're going to draw me a bubble bath, and gave me a massage, and paint my nails, and whatever else I want you to do. You're going to pamper me."

  I smiled. That sounded like Heaven to me.

  "And,” she continued, “I'm going to do whatever I feel like to you."

  My smile disappeared and I tried not to appear nervous.

  "Go start my bath,” she ordered. “Second door down the hall on the left, the bubble bath powder is in the cabinet under the sink."

  "Yes ma'am,” I responded quickly and then made my exit from the room.

  As the tub began filling up with lilac scented lather, she came in with a bottle of wine and two glasses, then handed the bottle to me to open.

  "It's going to be a long night,” she told me, “and I thought you might like a drink."

  I opened the bubbly and poured us each a glass, thankful to finally have something to coat my dry throat.

  She began to undress for her bath, right before my eyes, and I felt my heart leaping in my chest. She was beautiful, proportioned like a model, with long, firm legs and high, perky breasts. As she lowered herself into the water, she looked over at the vanity.

  "Go get that hairbrush and clip and put my hair up so that it doesn't get wet,” she said.

  "Yes ma'am."

  As I picked up the brush, she held up her hand.

  "Stop."

  I stopped.

  "Now put the hairbrush in your mouth like you are a dog carrying a bone, and get on your hands and knees and crawl to me."

  "Yes ma'am."

  I put the hairbrush handle in my mouth, got down on the hands and knees, and crawled over the tile floor to her. She smiled.

  "Good boy. Now, put my hair up in the clip so it doesn't get wet."

  "Yes ma'am."

  I had never brushed a woman's hair before, but I quickly found out what I had been missing. The texture of her locks was almost as pure as silk, and it slipped through my fingers as easily as the wine slid down my throat. She purred as I stroked the brush through her hair, and then I put the clip in it to hold it up and in place.

  "May I bathe you, ma'am?"

  She looked up and smiled.

  "Yes, you may."

  Taking the loofa from the corner of the tub, I dipped it in the soapy water and began washing her back. She had an exquisite neckline, with a long lean torso and delicate muscles holding her frame. She hugged her knees to her chest and bent her head down so that I could move the sponge all the way from the back of her neck down and then into the water to the bottom of her spine.

  Uncoiling, she sat up straight and faced me.

  "Now my breasts,” she told me.

  Once again, I put the loofa in the water, but she stopped me before I could put it to her chest.

  "Clean them with your mouth,” she ordered.

  "Ex ... excuse me?” I stammered.

  "You heard me. Use your mouth."

  I raised up my knees to get closer to her.

  "Yes ma'am."

  With that, I began licking and sucking her magnificent breasts clean, although they weren't, by any means, dirty. The lilac perfume from the bubble bath lather plus the womanly scent of her body reached my nostrils, and it made me almost lightheaded. Her rose colored nipples hardened as my tongue bathed over them, but she made no sound as to how it felt. I wanted to use my hands ... to caress her lovely mounds ... but I did exactly what she told me and just used my mouth. I hoped that she would be pleased with her boy slave.

  She pulled away from me and finished washing the rest of her body, then stood up in the tub, waiting to be dried off. I quickly grabbed the towel and wrapped her in it so that she didn't get cold.

  "Thank you, Steven,” she said softly, “now I'll wait on the bed for my massage. There is some lotion in the cabinet under the sink."

  "Yes ma'am."

  I sighed, happy that she appeared to be satisfied with what I had done so far, and retrieved the lotion.

  She was, as she had said she would be, lying on the bed on her tummy and waiting for me. The towel was on the floor.

  The picture-perfect view in front of me almost took my breath away. My eyes devoured the slight dip of her lower back to the roundness of her flawless bottom, and suddenly I was almost too afraid to put my hands on her. She looked back at me.

  "Claudia,” my voice quivered.

  "I need a massage, Steven,” she ordered, her voice quite stern, “get busy."

  I swallowed hard, took a deep breath, and put some lotion in my hands to warm it.

  "Yes ma'am."

  I tried to keep it professional, as if I was a physical therapist, but the more I massaged her skin, the warmer I got. Pretty soon, I was sweating. Her delicate skin felt like silk under my hands and I couldn't keep my cock from getting hard. My voice began to quiver.

  "Claudia, this is killing me."

  She turned her head to the side.

  "Good. Your gender needs to suffer a bit."

  I swallowed a lump and kept massaging.

  "Yes ma'am."

  After fifteen minutes or so, she began to shift.

  "Now the front,” she told me as she turned over on her back.

  I waited a moment for her to get in a comfortable position, then rubbed some lotion in my hands and started at her ankles. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, purring slightly as my touch would bring just the right pleasure.

  I tried not to look at her pussy as I caressed the top of her legs, but it wasn't possible for me to take my eyes away. I could see that the lips were shaved smooth, and the little bit of hair that was on her mound was neatly trimmed in a “V". I could feel a bit of drool on my chin as I tried to keep from leaning down and licking it.

  As I knelt between her legs to bend over her to massage her breasts, the front of my pants touched the inside of her thighs. No, correction, my pants-covered cock touched the inside of her thighs. It felt like the whole front of my trousers was one huge dick. She opened her eyes.

  "Why are you hard?” she asked softly.

  "Because I want you so bad,” I answered, trying to stay calm.

  She reached down and unzipped my pants. My cock sprang out into her hand.

  "Do you think just because you tell me that you want me that I am supposed to fall lovingly into your arms?” she questioned.

  "No ma'am, I just know that's why I'm hard."

  She smiled.

  "An honest man for once."

  She put her hands in the waistband of my pants and pushed them down over my hips, dragging my boxers with it, and continued to caress my cock. I was beginning to tremble in my attempt not to come.

  "Claudia, please,” I quivered.

  "Please what?” she asked with a cat-like grin.

  "Please let me make love to you."

  The cat-like grin suddenly turned almost sinister.

  "Or maybe I'll just fuck you,” she told me.

  She quickly raised up, pushed me over on my back, and straddled my legs. With my pants and underwear around my knees and her legs on each side of mine, I couldn't get up.

  She was beautiful; sitting above me, majestic and royal as if she owned me, and I was delighted to be her property. She thumped at my cock with her fingers, as if thumping it would make it go down.

  "These things are nothing but trouble,” she said as she gave the head of it a little pinch.

  I flinched in a moment of pleasure and pain, but didn't move or try to push her hand away.

  "I can make you feel good with it,” I told her.

  She glared at me and then slapped my cock with her open hand. I winced, the look on my face surely giving me away that the swat had been painful, but said nothing.

  "That's what you men all think we're good for,” she said. “Just a roll in the hay and you'll keep us happy. Well, think again!
Most of you couldn't make us have an orgasm if your life depended on it."

  As I looked at the expression on her face, I was beginning to think that my life did depend on it.

  "Would you let me try?” I asked quietly, “I won't ask for anything for myself."

  Her expression softened.

  "Why would you want to do that?"

  I brought my hands up and rested them on her bare thighs.

  "Because I don't want you to think that all men are like that guy you were going to meet in the restaurant,” I replied, “there are some nice guys out there who really want to please their lady."

  "And I suppose you are one of them?"

  "Yes ma'am."

  The look on her face gave her away. The anger was leaving.

  "What are you going to do?"

  I smiled.

  "Finish the massage."

  She got off of me and returned to her position on her back, and I continued my delightful task of pleasuring her, but this time with my pants and underwear on the floor. She reached down and pulled my shirt over my head, then tweaked my nipples in her fingers.

  "May I taste?” I asked as my fingers massaged her delicate mound.

  "Yes, you may."

  As I lowered my head and touched her clitoris with the tip of my tongue, a shudder went through her body. Before long, she put her hands on the back of my head and into my hair.

  "Don't stop,” she whimpered.

  I lapped her taste into my throat. I had never tasted anything as sweet or as warm. The pink folds inside her cunt lips were soft, and I sucked and nibbled gently. I began to feel her body responding, bidding me to search for more places of desire. I pulled her tighter to my face, and her legs moved over my shoulders, giving me complete access. I eased a finger into her cunt, and she gasped and pushed towards my hand for more. Her juices began to coat my nose, chin and mouth as I continued to probe.

  I inserted a second finger, and then arched them up, their tips gently massaging her g-spot. It was swollen, needing release, and I was happy to give it what it needed.

  I quickly found another sensitive spot, just beneath her engorged clit, and her body writhed in pleasure as I nibbled, sucked and licked. When I eased the fleshy hood back with my fingertip and sucked the swollen nub between my lips, she moaned and pressed me harder, matching her hips with the thrusts of my tongue and fingers.